Always the Rooftop
by Evening Starbossa
Summary: On a cold, November evening, two shadowy figures meet for the first time on the rooftop of the opera house.  Will one be pushed away from the other, or will an unbreakable bond soon form?  Only time will tell.
1. First Encounters

**A/N: You would think I would be out of fresh perspectives to do another rehashing PhanFic by now. You would like to think that, wouldn't you? Well, my imagination had other ideas. And so I bring you a story completely from Meg Giry's POV. Feedback, as always, is more than welcome! As with all my other stories, I do not own "Phantom of the Opera" or any of its characters.**

"We'll always have the rooftop." That was his promise to me...one of many. No matter what happened during the day, we would meet on the rooftop to watch the sunset. It was a vow we always stuck to. Always. Every evening for two years. Even if he was in one of his worst moods, when his roaring voice would echo off the cavern walls and two or three candelabras would find themselves tossed into the lake.

Most of the time, I could handle it...I would wait patiently for his rage to subside, and then I would pull him close. But if it got too much even for me, he would know to find me on the rooftop. Always the rooftop.

It was the rooftop where we first met. He was up there, perched atop one of the statues, peering out at nothing. His tears splashed upon the stone, but his shoulders never shook. Perhaps he had cried like this so often that he had grown immune, not even realizing when he was doing it, or perhaps not wanting to waste the energy. He didn't notice me at first. Or perhaps he did but did not want to bother. I let a few of my own tears fall as I watched him, and then I turned to leave, to give him his privacy.

"Wait," his voice ordered, and despite his tears, it was not the least bit shaky. He slid down off the statue effortlessly, landing lightly on his feet, such as with a cat. As he stood in front of me, I looked up at him—this caped masked figure that seemed more shadow than man. He studied me as well, but only for a moment. "You were watching me." It was not a question, but nevertheless it demanded an answer.

"Yes, Monsieur..." I nodded.

"Did you enjoy the view? Was it...a performance you enjoyed?"

"No, Monsieur, I..."

"Then why? Why would you watch me?"

"I don't know..." I looked down, but he lifted my chin to meet his gaze. I looked into his eyes then. They were still watery with tears unshed, and yet there was a fire deep inside them.

"Did you follow me here then? Or am I intruding on your alone time?"

"You're not intruding. But I did...follow you, in a way..."

"That was a very unwise decision on your part, Mademoiselle. To follow a man is dangerous enough. But to chase after the Phantom of the Opera..."

"The Phantom of the Opera? Is that what you call yourself?"

"Are you mocking me, child?"

"No, not at all...it's just...you don't feel like a phantom..." At this, he dropped his hand from my chin and turned away. "I'm sorry," I said after a while. He turned back around to face me then, looking at me as if he were seeing me for the first time.

"You're Little Giry…Marguerite…"

"You…know my name, Monsieur?" As soon as the question was asked, I realized how foolish it sounded. This was _him_ I was talking to…the Opera Ghost…I flushed slightly, and he was kind enough to do nothing more than smirk down at me.

"My dear girl, I know everyone who walks through the opera house doors. Especially the daughter of Madame Giry…"

"My mother? What does she have to do with this?" He seemed taken aback at my words, as if realizing how much he had just said.

"I'll ask the questions, Mademoiselle. Now why would you follow me?" I looked down then and sighed.

"I…needed to get away from all the chaos on stage…Mama was busy with the other girls, so I took the chance and slipped away…I wasn't sure where I was going to go, but…then I saw your shadow…"

"And you just decided to follow it? Had you no thoughts whatsoever toward your safety?"

"I…figured it had to be you…"

"Why does that make a difference? If anything, that should have given you all the more reason to go the other way…"

"Curiosity, I suppose." I shrugged, and he chuckled.

"Have you not heard the term 'curiosity killed the cat?'" I knew he was trying to sound threatening, but I also knew that in all my life at the Opera House, not once had he attacked any of the girls, save for the pranks played on Carlotta. In fact, before Monsieur Buquet that night, he had not attacked anyone. And so I stared back at him, meeting his gaze evenly.

"I have heard it, yes." He frowned a bit before turning away with a sigh.

"Leave me."

"Will you be all right?" He tensed when I said this, and it seemed like several minutes passed before he spoke.

"I will be the same as always, Mademoiselle. But you should not concern yourself with my welfare." I heard bitterness in his voice, and I touched his shoulder. He tensed some more before grabbing my hand and whirling around. Another silence followed before he dropped my hand. "Your mother will be worried. Go to her and forget you ever saw me." He walked back to the statue then, leaning sideways against it with his back to me.

"I will keep this meeting a secret, Monsieur, if that is what you wish. But to forget it completely, I cannot. Good night." I did not wait for him to reply before I went back down into the dormitories.

**That was the **first meeting. No one heard from him again for the next three months. My thoughts quickly grew from curiosity to worry, but I could do or say nothing for fear of betraying the secret. And so I busied myself with dancing and making my costume for the New Year's Masquerade Ball. I smiled cheerfully and listened to my mother closely, but always, always in the back of my mind was that one burning question. Where was he?

A few times, I was able to sneak away to the rooftop, just to see if he was there. Only once did I feel like I was being watched. It was sunset. I felt his eyes burning a hole through me, and yet he managed to keep himself well-hidden from me, despite the fact that I searched everywhere twice. He had to be smirking at me, or at least laughing inside at my feeble attempt. Frustrated, I called out into the color-striped sky, "I know you're here! I have not forgotten you…I just wanted to know if you're all right!" My cry was met with silence, and I shivered in the early winter air. "Fine then. I feel you here, so I know you're safe. Good night, then, Monsieur. And Merry Christmas." I set down my small gift in the snow then. It was not much, as I was far from being an artist or wealthy, but I hoped he would appreciate it. It was an old scarf, discarded from the Opera House wardrobe. With a little cleaning and mending, it was returned to its original crimson red shade. I glanced around once more before the winter chill drew me back inside.

Three days later, I returned to my dorm room to find a beautiful black hair ribbon sitting on my pillow. It was too late for me to scurry up to the rooftop, but I smiled and clutched it to my chest, vowing to thank him someday.

The night of the Masquerade Ball was soon upon us. I picked up my mask from the dresser and peered into the mirror once more. Frowning at the image staring back at me, I decided it was as good as it was going to get and went to go find Mama.

Two hours passed uneventfully. I danced only a few times, but my mind was elsewhere. It was in the far corner of the room where Christine and the Vicomte de Chagney were sharing secrets. _That used to be me._ I couldn't help thinking. I was not naïve. I knew this would happen one day, when one or both of us found someone to love. Still, there was a large part of me wishing that I was still the one she shared secrets with. For the first time, I was left in the dark while she smiled secretively.

And so my mind was also on the rooftop, or wherever The Phantom was at this moment. I wished I was wearing his hair ribbon that night, but it would have conflicted with my pure white costume. Just then, when I was beginning to search for a way out, he was there, the Phantom of the Opera.

Only he was dressed all in red, save for the black belt, the off-white skull mask, and the black around his eyes. He looked around at the room from his perch at the top of the stairs, glaring, taunting, searching. His eyes fell on me, and I bit back the urge to gulp. However, except for an ever-so-slight nod in my direction, he did not acknowledge the fact that we had met and exchanged gifts. He had an agenda. He always did. And to show himself fully like this, tonight of all nights, I knew he was not there to thank me.

He was there for her…for Christine. To be sure, he spoke to the managers, to the crowd, to Carlotta and Piangi…but I knew it was coming. It was only a matter of time. Yes, his eyes found her then. And in that moment, it felt like the entire room turned to stone, save for him…save for her…it was as if they were performing an impromptu opera, and all the rest of us were forced to watch. I found myself looking into his eyes…those eyes I had only seen once before, and yet I knew them all too well. There was no doubt that he loved her. I had seen it on the rooftop as we both watched Christine and her suitor.

I had been in the shadows then, just as he was but on the other side. As they sang their declaration of love to each other, I saw his face. I saw the shock, the pain, the betrayal…the love. I was no expert on the subject, but what else could it be that caused him to turn away in pain when their lips touched…to huddle over a rejected rose in the snow…to look back up with new determination, motivated by the spark of hope that it wasn't over…that there was still a chance.

And now, as he slowly descended the staircase to her, I could see that he was taking that chance. And as I looked into his eyes, I wondered what it would be like, to be loved like that. But there was no time to dwell on my dreams and wishes, for at that moment his eyes fell to the necklace she was wearing. His face changed then, and he tore the necklace off of her. "Your chains are still mine! You belong to me!" He ran back up the stairs and disappeared in a cloud of smoke just as the Vicomte appeared out of nowhere, and he disappeared below the stairs as well before the rest of the room seemed to come out of our trance. I looked around for Mama, but she had disappeared as well. My mind then turned to thoughts of Christine's necklace. I had seen only a glimpse of it that night, and I remembered it was a simple chain with a ring on it. A ring…a diamond ring. I froze then as it hit me—she was engaged! My best friend was engaged, and she hadn't even thought to tell me!

I needed space. I did not care if he was there or not. I needed the rooftop. And so as the crowd around me scrambled around in complete chaos, I made my exit. Within minutes, I was gasping for air in the cold winter night, the only warmth on my face coming from the flow of tears streaming down. I did not care. How I felt didn't matter…it never had. And then I scolded myself for feeling this way all of a sudden…Mama had always brought me up to put others first, and I was always happy to do so. So what was so different now?

Before I could think any longer, I felt a sudden warmth wrap itself around my bare arms, and as I looked down, I saw a very familiar red cape. I turned around then. He was looking down at me, his face completely expressionless. "You should not be here, Marguerite. It is far too cold and late for a little girl like you to be out."

"I…I don't care…" I tried to sound brave, but my shivering and still-shaky voice from my tears completely destroyed that mask.

"What could you possibly have to cry about, Little Giry? I would have thought that a Masquerade Ball would be a cheerful occasion." I sensed bitterness in his voice as he spoke, but I ignored it.

"I…I'm losing her, Monsieur…I'm losing my best friend…"

"Christine? Yes I…feel as though I'm losing her too…" He looked away from me then, as if his face could show more weakness than his words already had.

"You love her…"

"More than anything." He sighed as he said this, and it was several minutes until he turned to face me again. "But where could you have possibly gotten the idea that you are losing her?"

"She kept her engagement a secret from me…she used to tell me everything, and yet she chose to keep the most important thing in her life a secret from me!" The tears returned then, and I didn't try to stop them. "And I know I should be happy for her…I'm supposed to smile and congratulate her as if nothing is wrong…but…" I lost complete control of my emotions then, and only with him slowly pulling me into an awkward hug did I keep myself from collapsing to the snow. But oh, it felt so freeing to finally say it!

"You should not be afraid to feel like this, Little Giry…sadness and anger are just as real and important as happiness. Without them, one would be quite dull…almost inhuman. But you should not blame Christine for keeping that a secret from you. She must have been afraid of how I'd react if I found out."

"But you found out anyway…" He pulled away then, reaching into his pocket to retrieve the necklace and ring. In the silence, he studied it a bit, and I saw flashes of bitterness, sadness, and love in his eyes. After a few minutes, he put the jewelry back into hiding with a sigh.

"Why did you give me that scarf?" The change of subject was so sudden that I had to think of what he was talking about. When I remembered, I shrugged.

"It was Christmas…everyone deserves a present on Christmas…" My words seemed to cause a bit of shock to him, and it took him a moment to find his voice.

"Everyone except me, Mademoiselle. I don't deserve anything but darkness. But I thank you just the same."

"Of course you deserve it, Monsieur! Why would you think such a thing?"

"Because I learned very early in life that the sight of me causes nothing but terror and disgust in everyone that has eyes to see." His hand went to his mask then, but he did not remove it. "I am much better off in hiding…"

"And yet you also believe that you deserve happiness with Christine…"

"She's different." He snapped, and then his voice softened. "I did not plan on coming into contact with her…I just happened to hear her singing in the chapel one night…I heard her sadness and wanted to comfort her."  
>"You're her tutor…her Angel…" The realization hit me just then, and I was surprised to hear myself give voice to it.<p>

"Yes…she told you about me then…"

"As I said, Monsieur…she tells me everything…until now…" I sighed again, and he smiled ever so slightly.

"How do you expect her to tell you everything when you are hiding up here?" He had a point, and I bit my lower lip.

"That's true…and it is getting late…" I sighed again before handing him his cape. "Thank you, Monsieur…" He raised his eyebrow as he took his cape.

"What could I have possibly done to deserve a thank you?"

"Everything…the hair ribbon…the cape…talking to me and listening to me…everything…" I smiled then, and left him to his thoughts.

**A/N: More to come soon! As I said, feedback is welcome! :)**


	2. Reaching Out

**A/N: Told you more would come soon. :P Once again I own nothing!**

I couldn't sleep that night. I do not know why. I also don't know why I expected him to still be there at three in the morning. But I went anyway. I took a thick blanket as well as my cloak—if he was still there, I did not want him sacrificing his cape over me and my foolish impulses.

Before I could have any second thoughts, there I was, back on the rooftop. It only took me a few moments to realize I didn't feel him there. So why did I stay? Again, I do not know. All I can recall is huddling beneath one of the statues near the stable rooftop and closing my eyes.

Two hours later, I awoke to hear the commotion of early morning deliveries. I stood, deciding to watch some before slipping back inside before I was missed. Several minutes later, I saw one of the opera house carriages leaving. _Funny,_ I thought, _I wonder who would be leaving…_ Taking a closer look, I saw that the passenger was Christine! Too far away to call out to her, I watched helplessly as the carriage disappeared. A minute later, there was the Vicomte, galloping after her on a white horse. Satisfied that she was safe at least, my thoughts then turned to the Phantom and our conversation hours before.

And then I remembered the mirror.

Pushing aside all thoughts of what Mama would do to me, I went inside. Stopping at my room only to drop off the blanket, I tiptoed down the corridor to the dressing room. As I slid into the secret passageway, the first thing I remembered was the rats. As I walked, my ears were filled with their squeaking. Suppressing the urge to gasp, scream, or run, I kept moving until I came to a flight of stairs.

I will not go into the details of every twist and turn, as there were just far too many of them. I will, however, mention the lake and the boat I found. Feeling butterflies in my stomach, I got in and made my way through the waters. Several minutes later, I came upon his living quarters. They had to be. So much artwork, so much darkness. I was thankful for the candles scattered about, as their light revealed further insight into his artistic talent. As I brought the boat to the landing and stepped out onto the stone floor, I marveled at the massive organ and the tiny monkey music box. For some reason, I was not surprised by the amount of art dedicated to Christine. Our last conversation had shown me just how much he cared for her.

Unfortunately, the candles also revealed another obvious observance—he wasn't there. Deciding against exploring too much into his private quarters, I instead opted to sit by the lake, waiting. He had to return sometime. And that sometime came two hours later, announced by splashing and cursing long before his shadowy figure appeared through the gated entrance.

His eyes first fell on the boat, and he cursed it repeatedly. As I watched and listened to him, I immediately started having those second thoughts about coming here. And yet I was too frozen to move. I started to squeeze my eyes shut, then realized how foolish that would be.

And then he was glaring at me. I gulped, but then chose to take my punishment standing up. His face changed then, from anger to recognition and finally confusion. "Marguerite…why have you come here?" His tone was sharp, and I could not blame him.

"I…couldn't sleep…" It was weak, but it was the truth.

"This opera house is filled with more than enough places you could have gone. Why here? And more importantly, how did you find this place?"

"I…found the passageway behind the mirror months ago, when I was looking for Christine…I only got a few steps before my mother stopped me…and I came here because…I suppose I was thinking of you…I was on the roof again, and I saw Christine leave…and then I thought of you…"

"Well you should not be here, Little Giry. Do you realize what your mother will do to you…to me?"

"Again, you mention my mother! Why?"

"Never mind!" His roaring voice echoed throughout the caverns, and I found myself backing up a bit. He softened again and sighed. "It is not for you to know. You were never supposed to see me…let alone talk to me…and to come into my private quarters by way of stealing my boat…" As he said this, I took notice of the lake water dripping off of his drenched clothes.

"I'm sorry…I thought you would be here…"

"Well I wasn't. Marguerite, when you saw Christine leave, did you happen to notice the driver?" He smirked ever so slightly, and I quickly caught on.

"You? You went with her?" He nodded, and his face then changed to bitterness.

"It was a trip wasted, I'm afraid." He turned away then, and shoved a candelabra into the lake. "Curse that insolent, arrogant, self-centered, incompetent Vicomte!" I was not un-used to such a harsh tone, with the stagehands the way they were. But to hear it coming from him, somehow that shocked me. I touched his shoulder again, but he did not acknowledge me. His head was down, and I could tell he was about to cry.

"What happened, Monsieur?" For the longest time he did not reply. Just when I thought he never would, he slowly turned to face me, tears streaming down his face and underneath his mask.

"He's gone. Her angel is gone. I ruined it, all because some young suitor came along and caused me to get careless." He then proceeded to tell me how he had taken Christine to the graveyard, as she had requested. He told me how she had gone to see her father, and how he had tried to comfort her. "I would have, too, if that blasted boy hadn't come running to rescue her." He laughed bitterly at that. "Rescue. From what? From comfort?" He collapsed into a chair and hunched over, and I wondered if he remembered that I was still there. "No one would listen…no one but her, heard as the outcast hears…" He sang this quietly, followed by a heavy sigh.

"I would listen, Monsieur…" I spoke quietly, and he whirled around.

"No…no you wouldn't! You can't! You don't know my loneliness…my pain! She knows…Christine understands!"

"But I do know, Monsieur! You don't think I'm lonely? And it's not just because of Christine's secret. Even before she came…I was surrounded by girls my age and yet I couldn't get close to any of them! They were always competing, and on top of that I was the ballet mistress's daughter! They were either fearful of me or they used me. And my mother…she was there, yes, but she was there for them too! So yes, I do understand…and I would listen if you'd at least let me try!" The tears were falling before I even knew they were there, and as my emotions were released, I collapsed onto the floor in front of him. I didn't look at him. I didn't dare to.

"Marguerite…I…I'm sorry you were overlooked. But you must realize that I…promised to leave you alone…and so I put you in the same box as all the others…"

"Promised who? My mother?" His sigh confirmed that my assumption was correct. "Please Monsieur…I must know what my mother has to do with all this…please…" That time, I did look up, and he sighed.

"I came here when I was a young boy. Your mother brought me here…She…found me when I was running from the traveling fair…she took care of me." There was pain in his face with every word he spoke.

"Why were you running?" Once again, my curiosity won over my sense of tact. He sighed again and pointed to his mask.

"Because of what this hides. I'm a monster…a freak. They called me…" He paused as a wave of tears washed over him. "They called me 'the Devil's Child'. I couldn't take it anymore…the laughs, the screams, the looks of disgust…and so I killed a man…in order to escape."

"Could I…do you mind if I see?"

"No! You mustn't! I could never do that to you! You'll just scream like everyone else!"

"Did my mother see?" My question seemed to surprise him, and it took him a while to answer.

"Yes…"

"Did she scream?"

"Well I…no…"

"Then maybe I won't scream." I smiled gently up at him, and he sighed. Slowly, he pulled away the carved white porcelain, closing his eyes and lowering his head. I stood and made my way over to him, touching the raw, scarred flesh.

"Please…say something…tell me I'm a monster…that I disgust you…but please, no silence…no more silence!"

"Well you're not a monster, Monsieur…and you don't disgust me. To be sure, it's something I've never seen before, but that doesn't mean you should be humiliated or beaten for it…"

"You're only saying that out of fear."

"If I was fearful, Monsieur, I would not have come."

"Why did you come? Why do you always insist on seeking me out?"

"Curiosity at first…after that, I guess I just enjoy talking to you…we don't know each other, and yet I can tell you everything and you'll listen to it all. I guess you could say I think of you as a friend."

"A…friend, Marguerite? You…you're mistaken. I'm a friend to no one, not even myself."

"How else would you describe it?"

"Look, Marguerite…whatever stories you may have heard…whatever fantasies you might have…I am not a man deserving of the title of friend…especially to one so innocent as yourself. I'm a murderer. No…no it's best if you just…left me alone."

"Is that what you truly want, Monsieur? To be alone?"

"It was always my destiny, Marguerite. Except for Christine…I was always meant to be alone."

"You cannot mean that…"I touched his shoulder again, but he shook my hand off.

"Please…just go…before your mother worries. Please." He looked up at me, tears still streaming down his beautifully imperfect face. He managed a small sad smile, however, and I slowly nodded.

"Very well. I will visit the rooftop often…"

"I'm sure you will. But do not expect me to be there."

"I know…" My own tears were threatening to fall as I turned away.

"And…Marguerite…"

"Yes?"

"You are welcome to my boat. I shall fetch it later."

"Thank you, Monsieur…good bye…" I stepped into the boat and pushed off, refusing to look back for fear of completely losing control.

**A/N: More soon! Stay tuned! :)**


	3. Advice and Warnings

**A/N: Okay. Tired of the rehashing? Well it ends, for the most part, here. Well, not exactly HERE here, but within this chapter. *ahem* Once again, I own nothing!**

**I was not given** very much time after that to dwell on my sadness over his words. But then, nor was Mama given much opportunity to question me about my absence, and for that, I was grateful. In the few moments I did have to think about everything, I became more and more confused. Was this too heavy a burden for me to bear? Was I really never meant to have seen him…to have spoken to him? But he had spoken of destiny, and so I supposed I _was _meant to. And he had treated me so kindly—how could he have said that he did not deserve to be called my friend?

With a heavy heart and a head full of questions, I decided to confide in my mother. And so, early the next morning, before everyone else was awake, I made my way to Mama's quarters, where I knew she would be up.

As I entered, she turned away from her mirror and smiled at me. "Why, Meg, what a pleasant surprise…"

"I know, Mama…the Phantom…I know…" With a heavy sigh, she stood and grasped my hands.

"I can see in your face that you are not talking about the stories…" I shook my head, and she sighed again. "Did he come to you then? Like he did with Christine?"

"No, Mama…I went to him." As I said this, she lowered herself to her bed. "He did not break his promise."

"You know of that? What else do you know?" She listened carefully as I told her about the rooftop and the exchange of gifts…how I had gone down to his lair the previous morning. With each meeting I told her about, I found it harder and harder to read her face. Finally, after a moment of silence, she sighed.

"Meg, my child…I did not have him make that promise because I was fearful of him. I knew that you would someday have the caring heart that you do now. You should not have to bear his pain…you should not have sought him out like this…you must forget about him."

"Mama, I did not come here to seek your permission. I came here to seek your advice. You and I both know that I cannot simply forget about him…" She studied me for several minutes, and then sighed.

"I see my caring nature is not everything you inherited from me, my dear. But what advice do you seek from me?"

"Has he ever called you his friend? Have you ever referred to him as a friend?"

"No my dear…at best I have been his helper…his assistant. He has never confided in me anything that was not necessary to the carrying out of his orders." She gave me an apologetic smile then. "I'm afraid my fears have kept me from questioning him further."

"But surely…surely you believe he is deserving of friends…"

"Of course, my dear. I could not be, but perhaps you will be the one. Just be careful. Do not take on more than you can handle."

"But how do I go about it when he has rejected me?"

"Persistence. He is a man as stubborn as we are…but then he may insist on doing one thing and then suddenly change his mind. So do as you said you would and go to the rooftop tonight. You may find that he has surprised even himself."

"Thank you, Mama!" I threw my arms around her and kissed her cheek, and she laughed.

"Ah, Meg, my dear, you are certainly my daughter! Now then, let us go to breakfast!"

**By the time night fell,** however, I had a more urgent reason to go to the rooftop than simply checking his stubbornness. I burst through the door and ran to the edge, grasping onto a statue for dear life while trying not to be sick. _Be here…please be here…_ "Well you certainly keep your promises, I shall give you that." I could hear the smirk in his voice, but I had no time for smirks. As I attempted to catch my breath, he came up beside me. "Why so breathless?"

"Mama…she heard…told me to tell you….urgent…"

"For goodness sake, child, sit down and rest!" I turned away from the roof's edge and slid to the ground, burying my face in my hands. I heard him sit down in front of me, and when I finally looked up, he was sitting against the statue, watching me with concern while waiting for me to explain myself. Several minutes passed, and then he spoke again. "Marguerite?"

"Don't be angry, Monsieur, but I told Mama about our meetings…"

"You did _what_?"

"Please, Monsieur…I had to…I needed her help…"

"Very well…go on…" he groaned.

"Today…she met with the Vicomte and several others…they're plotting against you…" He sighed and nodded as I said this.

"Yes, I did happen to hear that conversation…"

"Did you also hear the one between the Vicomte and Christine?"

"When?"

"Tonight…in the chapel…"

"And what did they say?"

"He's…going to use her to distract you… to bring you within reach of the police…she's going to betray you…"

"No! She wouldn't!"

"But she is, Monsieur…I heard her myself. She was hesitant at first, but he talked her into it…"

"And how did you happen to hear this, Little Giry?"

"Accidentally…I was looking for Christine, and I got to the chapel door and…I heard them." As I spoke, he stood up and began pacing.

"She's…going to betray me?"

"Yes, Monsieur…"

"Do you know how?"

"No…but I felt I should warn you…and tell you to be careful." He stopped pacing and lowered his head, bringing his hand up to rub it. Suddenly he turned and flew back over to me.

"If I find you have lied to me…"

"Why would I lie to you?" I met his glare evenly, and he studied my face before letting out a sigh.

"No, I suppose you wouldn't lie…" It was several minutes before he spoke again. "Very well…tomorrow night, whatever happens… take your mother and go down to the lake."

"Why would I…"

"The lake, Marguerite. That is all you must know. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Monsieur…but what if…what if she won't come?"

"She will. I will send her a letter."

"Very well…"I nodded, and he touched my shoulder.

"You were wise to tell me what you heard. Now go…get some sleep." I nodded again and silently went back inside, not wanting him to see my fears.

**I was somehow** able to get sufficient sleep that night. I mention this only because the next day was so hectic that there would have been no other way I could have survived it. Final rehearsals went as planned, but surrounding everything we did was a thick tension that set everyone on edge. Throughout the entire day, his words of warning repeated themselves constantly. _The lake. Go to the lake._ The instructions were simple enough. It was the unknown that made me so nervous.

Before I knew it, the curtain was about to open. Part of me wanted to just grab my mother's hand and run down to the lake at that moment, just to get it over with. And yet every ounce of my upbringing and training told me that the show had to go on. Mama had told me that she had received his note, and that she agreed to go. Now all we could do was wait—but for what? He had failed to mention any sort of signal. But it was too late to try to track him down. My cue was drawing near, and so I quickly turned my expression of very real anxiety into a fake grin that hopefully no one could see through.

And then I was dancing, pushing my worries aside and putting all my energy into remembering the routine. It was never far from my mind that he had written what I was dancing to, and yet I knew that he had composed this entire opera with her in mind. Not my dancing.

Before I could scold myself for my selfish attitude, the song was over and I moved off stage, immediately going to the dressing room to change costumes. I was usually quick in doing this anyway, but this time I didn't want to miss a single thing. And so the finishing touches were done on my way back to my mother's side. She was glancing upward, to the bridge onstage, and there was a look of horror on her face. As I followed her gaze, my heart leapt out of my chest and into my throat. He was there…the Phantom of the Opera, performing onstage with Christine. And once again, I found myself caught in the power of emotion between them.

I reminded myself that this was, after all, a performance that required such emotion, but this was not acting. This was very real. She played herself, a young innocent damsel trapped in a snare. And he was the mastermind behind the trap, using all his genius and trickery to get her where he wanted her. This opera was his…more his than the opera house in which we were standing. Was that the message he was trying to send? That even though he didn't officially own the building, he owned this opera...the music, the characters-the actors? _Christine._ "You belong to me," he had said at the Masquerade. And apparently he had meant every word of it.

As I watched them, I heard them sing the scripted words "The bridge is crossed so stand and watch it burn…" He was holding her from behind, singing into her ear, a position that would have made me melt. But then I saw his one hand subtly reach over to a lever, and as he pulled it, the chandelier over the audience began to swing dangerously above. He then grabbed the nearest candlestick and lit the railings of the bridge. In the uproar of screams from the audience and cast, he pulled another lever which caused them to disappear below the stage.

"Now Marguerite! Come with me!" Mama was pulling my wrist as I watched the bridge come crashing down, completely blocking the trap door into which they had disappeared. I watched the stage upon which I had danced so many routines become completely consumed by the flames. I watched the chandelier come crashing down to the seats below, and with tears in my eyes, I finally allowed my mother to pull me to the passageway behind the mirror.

**A/N: Okay this was the last chapter FOR NOW that I will be publishing. Next one needs a bit of tweaking. So, now would be a good time to leave a review…and check out my other stories…while you wait! Stay tuned! :)**


	4. Conflicts and Confrontations

**A/N: Sorry about the delay…As always, I own nothing! **

**When we got** to the lake, I only needed a few seconds to realize that the boat was elsewhere. I looked back at my mother, unsure of what to do. My costume consisted of black trousers and tall boots, but Mama was in her thick long dress. "Well, go on," she urged impatiently. I nodded and waded in, my mother right behind me. The water was up to my middle the entire time we followed the path of candles glowing from along the walls. Finally, we reached his gated entrance, which at the moment happened to be closed. I shivered slightly as we peered through the bars.

Christine was sitting on the floor, sobbing, while the Phantom was standing over her, holding a wedding gown toward her as he sang. "Say you'll share with me one love one lifetime, lead me save me from my solitude…say you'll want me with you now and always…anywhere you go let me go too…Christine, that's all I ask of you…" The tune was clearly familiar, the words similar. And yet, in his voice was a tone of final hope. Her hand was closed around something, but I had a feeling that it could only be the ring he had taken from her to use in his own proposal. She did not speak to him in reply, but rather kept on sobbing to the point where she was shaking. And yet she did not take her eyes off of him. He knelt down then, placing the wedding gown in her lap as he continued his song. "What are you afraid of? Is life with me so grim? You're safe, nothing can harm us, not even the fire above us…"

"Raoul…" she whispered, her eyes growing wider.

"Your Vicomte was a distraction. You will forget about him."

"I can't! I love him!"

"You will learn to love me…" He stood up again and began slowly pacing. "Perhaps one day I will let you see my face again, and by then you will not scream…or wish to betray me…" He turned to face her then, his voice full of accusation. She lowered her head.

"How…did you know?" As she asked this, I began chewing on my lip. I had not thought of this…her finding out that I had betrayed her.

"Never mind how I knew of your plan. The point is, you were going to betray me…after I gave you everything!" Even as his voice rose, I let out a sigh of relief. My secret was safe, and I hoped to someday thank him. But that thought was immediately shoved aside as he continued his rant. "You were going to betray me…for him…for some rich suitor who was not even there for you after your father died. I was your angel…but more importantly I comforted you… I trained your voice. And when I was not giving you lessons, I listened to your thoughts and fears. And you would throw all that away?"

"You deceived me!"

"I hadn't planned on it. Not for forever. Would you have opened up to me if I had shown myself to you right away?" She hesitated, and he nodded. "Yes, that's what I thought. I deceived you in order to protect you." He knelt down next to her again, taking her hand in his. "Christine, everything I ever did was for you. Why can't you just accept that?" She looked away from him then, sobbing and fingering the lace on the wedding gown.

"I see there was one lesson I neglected to teach you, Erik…" Mama's voice beside me caused me to jump, and The Phantom whirled around, rising to his feet.

"Antoinette…Marguerite…was I not clear in my instructions? I told you to go to the lake. Not through it."

"Well we're here now, Erik. You might as well let us in." I watched him sigh and go over to a lever. When he pulled it, the gate in front of us rose out of the water, and as we passed through, water dripped down on us, causing me to shiver. As we approached the dry land that was his lair, I once again found myself looking around at all the artwork, fully taking in the evidence of his obsession. Yes, that was a word more suited to what I was seeing. I could see now that it was not the perfect picture of love I had thought. Perfect love was shared by both parties, not forced upon one another. But how could he have known?

It was a question I had a feeling my mother was about to answer.

The Phantom pointed toward his work area. "You may sit in there if you wish. I shall deal with you momentarily." He then turned back toward Christine.

"No, Erik, you will deal with us now." The tone in Mama's voice was all too familiar, and yet I had never in my wildest dreams imagined her using it here…with him! Even Christine, deep in her own puddle of sorrows, looked up in sheer astonishment. I kept my eyes on the Phantom, wondering what he would do…and then I wondered what he was in for.

"Antoinette…"

"No, Erik…you will listen to me. I have sat back and watched you for twenty years. I have just let you do what you needed to…helped you without saying a word. But I think in doing that, I have made a big mistake, just as you are about to make a big mistake."

"You dare to tell me that loving Christine is a mistake?" The Phantom rose to his feet, glaring at my mother as he stepped closer to her.

"You do not love her, Erik." At that moment, I inwardly willed my mother to please stop talking. The Phantom's face grew redder, and I quickly looked to make sure he was not holding any punjabs.

"Silence." His voice was a whispered growl as he moved even closer, his hands clenched up into fists.

"Erik, you and I both know that your threats do not work on me. Now you will hear me out, and then if you wish I will leave you in peace."

"Oh? And where would you go? The opera house is gone. Like it or not, we are all trapped here. Welcome to solitude."

"There, you see Erik? You see how far you have let this go? You have let your stubbornness and your selfish feelings get in the way of your judgment, and now you have destroyed our home…our careers…"

"My salary money will cover the repairs. In the meantime you are welcome to stay here. Provided you stay out of my way…"

"And what about those that lost their lives tonight, hmm? What can you do for them?"

"What makes you think I would want to do anything for them? The world showed no compassion to me, why should I treat them any different?"

"Because it's the right thing to do."

"Ha! Since when has a murderous monster ever done the right thing?"

"There is always an exception, Erik. You must stop using your past as an excuse!"

"SILENCE! You will be silent, woman! You think I asked for this?" He ripped off his mask and pointed to his scars. "You think I asked to be sold to the gypsies….to be beaten and mocked? You think I asked for this life of solitude? This cold dark prison of my mind? Never!" He threw the black mask down on the floor, stomping it into the stone ground. "I did what I had to do in order to simply survive! And the one time I asked for the tiniest hint of happiness…you dare to take that away? To say that it is wrong?"

"I never said that being happy was wrong, Erik. The way you are going after it is. For goodness sake, open your eyes and look at her! Is that what you want? A future with a wife who cowers in the corner, crying every last tear she has in her because it's the future you forced her into? You did not ask for the past you were given. Don't make Christine live a future that she did not ask for." I watched as the Phantom reluctantly did as he was told, turning to face Christine. She had indeed resumed her position of huddling in the corner, weeping as she fingered the ring and the dress. His eyes that had been full of anger and rage now softened considerably as he contemplated my mother's words of wisdom. The air around us was silent, save for the joined sobs coming from the both of them.

I do not know how long the sobbing might have continued, had the Vicomte not dropped in on us, almost literally, at that moment. A splash from the other side of the gate caused us all to whirl around, and we saw his ash-covered body stumbling to regain his footing. His hair was tousled and partially burnt, his skin a deep red underneath the blackness of soot. He limped his way toward us, coughing up smoke, and he grew weaker with each time he fell into the water.

Christine was the first to spring into action, and she flew to the gate, calling his name. The Phantom reached a hand toward her, but at the last moment he drew it back, deciding not to stop her. She fell to her knees in the water, reaching her hand through the bars toward the Vicomte. "Raoul…I'm here…I'm right here…" He looked up, gasping for breath as his eyes focused on her. Slowly, he managed to crawl his way through the water toward her, and his shaking fingers finally intertwined with hers as he fell once more. Tearfully, Christine turned to the Phantom again. "Please…let him through!"

I turned my attention back to him, and by looking into his eyes I could see the debate going on in his mind. His face showed both anger and softening, but with the anger I could see that stubbornness I and my mother knew all too well. His debate was paralyzing him. As the Vicomte coughed once more, any debate in my mind was quickly dismissed as I made my way to the lever. Before the Phantom could even notice me, let alone stop me, I raised the gate, and the Vicomte collapsed further, Christine's lap the only thing keeping his head above water. She stroked his burnt hair and his ash-covered face, tears still streaming down her face. She turned once again to the Phantom, and I could see something new in her eyes…a strength I had never seen before. "Please…Angel…you must help him…you must do something!" The Phantom stared at her, slowly coming out of his trance, and then he finally let out a sigh of exasperation before going down to meet his nemesis. Hesitating only a second longer, he reached down with one hand and scooped the Vicomte out of the lake before walking him over to the massive bed. He practically flung Raoul onto the mattress before walking back toward us, and Christine immediately took a position at the bedside. The Phantom then grabbed a wooden bowl and filled it with lake water, and after tearing a portion of his shirt off and dipping it into the bowl, he handed both to Christine. "Clean him off. Then take clean water and keep the cloth on his forehead. Madame will help you." He did not wait for her to show that she understood his instructions. Instead, he stormed off into the far shadows of his lair. As my mother made her way over to Christine, she grasped my shoulder and bent down to my level.

"Go after him." She whispered, and I nodded. I would have gone anyway. But before I could say this, she was gone, and so I made my way over to where the Phantom had disappeared. I felt my way along the cavern walls until I heard the faint tinkling of a music box, and then there was his voice, shaky with sobs, singing along to the simple tune.

"Masquerade! Paper faces on parade…Masquerade..hide your face so the world will never find you…" There was a sigh and a sniffle, and then his whispered voice once more. "My music...my only happiness now…." I didn't realize that I had not stopped moving forward until the white of his shirt was before me. He was sitting on the floor, and I slowly lowered myself beside him. "Go away, Marguerite."

"No, Monsieur. I'll not leave you like this."

"Like what? Like the helpless, lonely fool I have always been? I've survived this long. It can only be the same darkness I've always known until death finally decides to pay me a visit."

"Monsieur…"

"I said leave me!" His eyes shown in the distant candle light, the only evidence that he was looking right at me. They glistened with tears he was still shedding, and I knew right then and there what I must do. I moved slowly, as if someone else were controlling my arms as I pulled him close and into a tight hug. His body was tense at first, as if I were hugging a stone. But slowly, his shoulders began to shake, and he relaxed against me as the sobs overtook his stubbornness. I rested my head upon his as my own tears started to flow.

**A/N: I apologize in advance for the next delay…unlike the delay with this one, I only have one paragraph written for the next chapter…but keep the feedback coming! It provides me with the motivation to keep writing! Stay tuned! :)**


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